Darcy's boss
by AirborneGirl
Summary: Poor Darcy. Why does she put up with a boss like Christopher Stone? Maybe because she's in love with him. Good thing they're only undercover. Because the same can't be said about Kensi, right? Little one-shot based on episode "Exit Strategy". Rated for some swearing.


**Darcy's boss**

**AN**: This is my first NCIS: LA fic. Hope you like it.

**Spoilers**: Based on the episode 3x13 "Exit Strategy". I liked the whole Christopher/Darcy interaction and this story just popped into my head and demanded to be written.

**Disclaimer**: I want Deeks! I want to add him to my collection of every other male character I've written fiction about. But I fear I won't get him. My collection, so far, is empty…oh well, on with it.

As your partner is being forced out of the building by some security thug, one you know he could have and indeed would have taken out easily if you weren't undercover and he was staying in character till the very end, you do your best to keep up your disheveled, blubbering attitude fit for a clumsy, forgetful, fretful, dimwitted assistant with bad fashion sense, who was just chewed out by her boss in front of the ever efficient looking receptionist of this multinational company.

You request the use of their bathroom and Maribel kindly points you in the right direction. You almost feel guilty for the sympathetic look she throws in your direction as you flee ungraciously into the privacy of the modest bathroom, the slight wobble only adding to the disguise of a disgraced young woman.

Inside the little cubicle, you sit down uneasily on the toilet seat and quickly send all the gathered intel to Eric, before ending your connection, flushing the toilet for good measure and getting out. As you're standing in front of the sink to wash your hands and reapply your lip gloss, aware that you need to act as natural as you can, the door opens and Maribel steps in.

For one scary moment you think your cover is blown and she's here to escort you out, the thought enhanced when she puts a hand on your arm.

"You shouldn't have to do this you know."

Feigning ignorance, you turn to her.

"I…I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Your boss, Mr. Stone. You shouldn't have him walk all over you like that. Anyone can make a mistake and you didn't deserve the chewing out he gave you, least of all in public."

You sigh in relief, honestly not even all that much aware of Deeks' blunt words at your little person, knowing it was merely a part of his corporate asshole persona, just as blubbering was part of your demure assistant role.

Maribel has no way of knowing you're quite capable of kicking your partner's butt (and other body parts) at any given time. And do so regularly too.

Luckily for you, she interprets your sigh as one of silent defeat, of a woman so used to being put down she has no fight left in her.

Still, it's only half playing a part that makes you defend your pretend boss with halting words. The other half you don't have to think about, it's something that happens automatically when someone, anyone, says something nasty about Deeks, regardless of the role he's playing at that time. If there's anyone kicking the man's butt, it's you. Anyone else has to keep their paws off. For better or worse, Marty Deeks' butt is yours.

Too bad he'd probably like that.

"It's alright, he's right, I mean…I did forget to confirm the meeting. I can be so scatterbrained. It's a miracle he hasn't fired me yet. If anything, he's too good for me. He's really a good man, when he's not stressed. And when I do something right. He even gave me a compliment on getting his coffee order right last week. And that's not easy. With all the double soy latte decaf macchiato stuff. I mean, why can't he just order a regular coffee, right? He has very high standards, Mr. Stone has. I should pay more attention to him…I mean, to his needs…at the office, I mean, not, well, you know…"

You're babbling, you don't know why exactly, but you just go with it, you figure nervous babbling suits the part of Darcy; the mousy assistant to a bully of a man.

Who does look damn fine in his gray suit and tie. Hetty does have exquisite taste, well, with the exception of your outfit that is. But then again, a power suit would not fit poor Darcy, now would it? You guess you should count yourself lucky your (fake; of course) glasses aren't being held together with tape, or a band-aid, like the epitome of geek.

Or naughty librarian. How does he come up with crazy stuff like that? Sometimes you do wonder what it's like to live in Deeks' mind. The though alone is usually enough to scare you off.

Again, you're in luck, as your nervous babbling is taken in stride, though in a way you haven't taken into account, really.

As you try to make your way back outside (you shouldn't let Deeks wait too long), Maribel puts one hand on yours, squeezes it friendly and sighs in a quite superior, infuriating way. You want to yank your hand back, but remind yourself just in time that though Kensi Blye doesn't need any kindness, Darcy's supposed to be a lot less self assured. So you leave it, hoping that this little girl to girl therapy session is over soon. You're horrible at girlie stuff.

Damn it Deeks, did you really have to overplay the tyrant card? Well, of course. Knowing him as well as you do, you suspect he was enjoying it just a bit too much. God help him if you find out your suspicion is true. Revenge will be swift and sweet. For you, of course.

His shriveled male body parts would make a nice ornament dangling from your rearview mirror…

"Oh boy. It's even worse than I thought."

Honestly, you were so lost in thinking up the most effective ways to make your partner pay, you had all but forgotten Maribel's presence. Despite of yourself and your haste to get the hell out of here before something, anything blows your cover, the question pops out.

"What is?"

The look you're receiving is one of mild scorn.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

What?!

"W-what? N-no, you got it wrong. I'm n-not in love."

You manage a halfhearted smile, trying not to be too upset by the sudden realization you're not sure if it's Kensi or Darcy who's answering the question. And who's trying none too convincingly to deny it.

Of course it doesn't matter to Maribel, who has no idea about your little schizophrenic situation here. She sees what she sees: an uncertain young woman being hopelessly in love with her boss, regardless of the fact he was a big bad bully.

She doesn't know about the existence of the kick-ass NCIS Special Agent Kensi Blye, who is never uncertain. And most definitely not in love with her partner, pretending to be her big bad bullying boss.

Yet, apparently and subconsciously, that's how you've made Darcy come across. Now you do like to get into character and with Deeks, it's a seamless process to adapt your alter egos to the other one's interpretation along the way without as much as one hitch, but how did you end up portraying Mr. Stone's assistant as such a poorly mentally developed woman, fawning over her three piece suit wearing, power and sexuality oozing boss?

Maybe because it's Deeks who's certainly oozing? Like he's never oozed before? Or more like he's always oozed, but you denied seeing in case you had to admit to actually, on some level, hidden deep down, liking it?

Good thing Nate's not here. He would have a field day figuring this one out, not to mention rubbing your face in the unavoidable conclusion that you are, in fact, helplessly in love with your partner, regardless of the roles you're playing.

"Poor thing, you can do so much better than him."

"No, I can't, I mean…I don't…I…"

Eloquence has no place in this room it seems. It's damn convenient hiding behind a ferociously blushing Darcy, right now. And again, who's in denial here? And why?

"Yes, you can. I'll admit, he's quite handsome, Mr. Stone. The whole shaggy look works well for him. But I've been in your shoes and I know the type: belittling men with huge egos and some serious anger issues and God only knows what else. Now I don't want to interfere and I hope I haven't caused you any embarrassment, but you, my dear, should get out of this job and away from him as fast as you can. He doesn't deserve your devotion. Take it from someone who knows."

"But I…"

The other girl rummages in her purse, takes out a pen and an embossed calling card and writes something on the back of it.

"Here's my card. My private number's on the back. If you need any help finding another job or if you just want to talk and rant about bosses and work and stuff, just give me a call."

Suddenly, you feel a little sick and more than a little ashamed you are lying so blatantly to a very kind woman, but, telling yourself you're a professional (who has to get the hell out of here!), you take the card with a shaky smile.

"Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because it looked like you could use a friend. And like I said; I've been there too."

"Thank you. You won't..."

"Tell anyone? Who's there to tell? Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. But you might want to apply some make-up before you go out."

"I will…thanks again, Maribel."

"Anytime, Darcy."

Then, your phone buzzes. You almost drop it, but answer it just in time. Deeks's voice, still in character, booms out.

"Where the hell are you, Darcy? I trust you can find your way out of the damn building without a tour guide! If you're not here in five minutes, you can kiss your cushy little job goodbye, you understand?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Stone. I'll be right here, Mr. Stone."

"Just hurry."

He hangs up. You look at Maribel, who squeezes your hand again.

"I eh…I got to go."

"I know. Hold on to my card. And good luck, Darcy. Remember, you can do much better than this."

" I will. Bye."

"Bye Darcy."

With one more small nod, you rush out of the bathroom, into the hallway and out the door, where the shiny car is waiting, Deeks watching out for you. Concern is written all over his face.

"What took you so long? I was starting to get worried our cover was blown to pieces...are you okay, by the way? You look flustered. Is it because I was an ass to you in there? It was just part of the cover, you know that, right?"

The warmth in his voice now that he's back to being Deeks is such a stunning contrast to the bluntness of Christopher Stone, it takes you aback just a little. But quickly, you compose yourself. If he's Deeks again, than you can go back to being Kensi.

Kensi does have to sensor her answers though.

"I thought so too for a moment, when Maribel walked into the ladies room. Turns out she only wanted to console me. Or Darcy, that is."

"Console you?"

He looks cute when he's all flustered. Sometimes you wonder how much of the roles he has to play somehow stick with him. Not that you think he would ever enjoy being rude and condescending to you (merely annoying and pestering, but never hurtful), but he does tend to consider all his aliases as a part of him, all of them representing character trades he tends to avoid in real life.

Max being the best example of him becoming someone he seriously despises. And now, there was Christopher Stone and it's clear to see Deeks hates him too, nice suit none withstanding.

But Christopher is not Deeks, because there's just no way the real Marty Deeks would ever even dream of treating you like a piece of scum.

And not because that piece of scum would shoot him without qualm if he did. The thoughts of sweet revenge dissipate into nothingness immediately. He did not enjoy putting you down, as you initially thought. You'll have to get another car ornament.

"Yeah. Christopher was pretty mean to Darcy after all. And she did break out in tears."

You hope that, by using your alter egos, he understands you know there was nothing personal in what he said.

"Yeah he was. And he's sorry. Well, I'm sorry."

"No need. You were merely playing a part. And so was I."

"Very convincingly, I might add."

"Why thank you. So did you."

"Thanks…what's that you're holding?"

Looking down at your hand, you see you're still clutching the now slightly creased calling card.

"Maribel gave me her card. You know, if I ever wanted to talk."

"Okaaay. About what? Should we still be worried?"

"No, our cover was definitely not compromised. She merely wanted to give me a chance to talk about my mean boss. She really felt sorry. She was very friendly. Said I could do better than you. And that is I was ever looking for another job, she might be able to help me."

"_You_ probably could do better. As Kensi of course. Darcy however…you did play her down pretty well, you know. The tears made all the difference."

"A little too well, apparently," you mumble.

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind."

"Oh but I do mind. How can a cover story play out too well?"

Sigh. You and your big mouth. Oh well, might as well give him something to laugh about.

"Well, she seems to think I am in love with you. Or rather, Darcy's in love with Christopher."

You're waiting for him to start laughing, start the ridiculous insinuations.

Nothing.

You don't want to glance at him, not sure what you can expect when you do. Yet, the silence goes on and on, getting too thick to ignore. So you address it. Might not be smart, but you don't like this tension, especially when you have no idea what caused it.

"What, no answer?"

He jumps a little, clearly expecting you would have let it drop. It takes him some time to answer and when he does, his voice is croaky at best. Very un-Deeks like, really. Not to mention disturbing.

"I…I guess I don't know what to say to that. Why would Darcy have a crush on Christopher? Why would Maribel think such a thing? I mean, he does look damn fine, but he still treats her like crap."

Damn, had you known he would take it seriously (and honestly, how could you have known?), you would have never told him. Oh well, in for a penny, or so they say…it shouldn't be more painful than getting thrown of your feet by an exploding bomb, should it?

"Because I might have...defended your honor. A bit too fast."

"Who, Christopher or me?"

You want to groan in frustration, wondering if schizophrenia is a preborn condition or if it can develop after one too many stupid undercover mission.

"Christopher. But I might have been so quick about it, she thought I was in love with you, well, him."

Damn, second slip!

Oh, he's never going to let it go now.

Indeed, a grin from ear to ear forms slowly on his (way too kissable) lips.

"So finally she admits to loving me."

Infuriating!

"First of all, we were talking about Darcy and Christopher, not Kensi and Deeks. Second, I never admitted anything, not to Maribel and most certainly not to you!"

"Sure thing, Fern. But I heard what I heard."

"You should have your ears checked then!"

It comes out with more vehemence than intended and for a moment, Deeks actually looks…hurt? However, it is masked by a cold indifference almost immediately.

"Very well. I get it. Excuse me for thinking for a moment that…never mind."

His mouth is set in a grim line as he maneuvers the car to the exit lane, which will get you back to the Mission. You're not ready to go back there though. Not before this is sorted out. You've been there, done that too many times and the t-shirts aren't worth it.

"Deeks…Marty…"

He looks up at that. You never call him by his given name. Nobody ever does. Encouraged by his acknowledgement, you continue, though you're not quite sure what to say.

"Can we get a drink or something to eat before we go back? I just…"

"Want to glaze this over with coffee and a donut? I guess it's the best I can get."

Not the reaction you were hoping for, but maybe, once you get the treats, you might…

Might what, Kensi Blye? Might confess how scared you were to come to the conclusion that Maribel was not as far off with her assumptions as you would like her to be? That your kneejerk reaction to her accusation of him being an asshole was to defend him? And that it had very little to do with either one of your aliases?

Then what?

Oh how he would laugh. How he would tease. How he would lord it over you every single chance he got. How he would never…

But what if he would? He did, after all, apologize for having to hurt you while being Christopher. But was that merely the courtesy of one partner to another? Or was it because he really cares? Does he like you defending him because he needs the reassurance that his continuous flirting might actually lead somewhere? Does he want it to lead somewhere?

Do you?

There's risk involved. Multiple ones. You could easily break your heart over this. And if you then still have to work with him…

Or you could find your heart burst with joy instead. And if you then still have to work with him…

Or you could keep your mouth shut and wait for his temper to settle down again. In the end, it always does. But what if it doesn't? You'll still have to work with him…

In the meantime, Deeks has found a cafeteria and parks the car in the small adjoining lot. He doesn't wait for you to get out and is already halfway to the door when you catch up with him.

Silently, you wait in line to place your order and silently, you sit down in two plastic chairs with your coffee and donuts.

You know it's up to you to release the tension, so you brace yourself.

"Marty…"

He gives you a small, rueful smile.

"You never call me Marty. I think I like it."

"Then I'll do it more often."

"You can. But only…"

He sets his cup aside and plucks your out of your hands too. He then gently takes your hand in his own. He finishes his sentence.

"Only use my given name when you mean it, Kensi. I know I have hundreds of pet names for you, but if you use my name, make it count."

"I…I'm not sure I know what you mean."

His stormy blue eyes bore into yours, dead serious and just a bit tired.

"You do know what I mean Kensi. Just I you know exactly what you were doing and saying in that bathroom. Face it, Kensalina, Darcy and Christopher never really existed. Their names were made up, these clothes aren't ours, their attitudes were an act. The emotions you showed? They were primal. They were real. Weren't they?"

Deny it! Deny it!

But you can't. You're so sick and tired of it. Here he is, holding your hand. This is not a scenario of a man who's only out to get one over you. Looks more like this is a man hoping, waiting, for you to finally admit that you want to put some realism, some clarity into the undefined thing you have.

To see it for what it is and to declare it as such.

"I'm scared."

"I know. But I'm not running. I've been waiting all this time. I'm not going anywhere now."

"Promise?"

"I got your back, partner."

Of course he does. He always does. It's why you love him in the first place.

Suddenly, it's all so simple.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes to all of it. Yes, the emotions were real. Yes, Maribel was right. Yes, Marty Deeks, I am in love with you."

For a moment, it's silent. But then subtle changes start to become visible and palpable. His eyes light up in awe, his mouth curls up in a genuine smile, void of the usual smugness. The hand holding yours grips harder, before pulling it to him.

With surprising tenderness, he kisses each finger. Your breath hitches. His other hand traces your jaw until he cups your face and draws you in.

His kiss is sweet and soft and so full of months and months of longing, you actually want to kick yourself for not going or it sooner. Without thinking, you give as much as you get, his answering groan and the deepening of the kiss a clear indication you're doing something absolutely right.

When you finally part (not before you're about to black out by lack of oxygen), he leans his forehead to yours, panting hard.

"Hey Kensi?"

"Yeah?"

"You still got that calling card Maribel gave you?"

"Sure."

You hand the card to him.

"What do you need it for?"

He doesn't say, just takes it with a smile…

_Two days later…_

A huge, almost vulgar bouquet of flowers is being delivered to the reception desk of Montalban inc., addressed to a Miss Maribel. Intrigued, she opens the envelope holding a card. Inside, there are two short messages in two different hand writings. The first, feminine one reads:

_Eloped to Las Vegas last night._

_I'm officially Mrs. Darcy Stone now._

_Mr. and Mrs. Stone thank you kindly for your interference._

The second, masculine scrawl on the other side:

_Whatever you said to Darcy, I thank you_

_It made me see the true value of her._

_I'll make sure I'm worthy of having her by my side._

With a smile, she puts the flowers on full display.

She's happy for them. They might not last, but hey, she hopes they do. And if Darcy can be happy with her boss, than who knows…maybe she can too.

THE END

_So….reviews are most welcome. Thanks for reading._


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